


All These Years, All These Memories. There Was You.

by burgerkhal



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: 5+1 Things, Five Times, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion Are Soulmates, Geraskier, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burgerkhal/pseuds/burgerkhal
Summary: Five times Jaskier left Geralt's life.One time he didn't.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 70





	All These Years, All These Memories. There Was You.

The first time we meet, Geralt dearest, you don't even realize we are destined to be together for your lifetime. We were both tender children, abandoned at destiny's doorstep and didn't know each other's name. Vesemir insisted on not giving us labels until we were of age. I now know it was less painful that way, both for him and the boys.

The fields of flowers in Kaedwen were a breathtaking sight. Remember how we used to braid buttercups in our hair? Don't worry, I don't remember much from that time either. Except your hair! I swear it was darker than midnight in those days, and your eyes sparkled green, two emeralds that could pierce through my lies. You used to laugh at my skin. It was so pale, while yours burned warm like desert sands.

I think I was sick. Maybe I was cursed, who knows? In times of war, famine and necessity many children ended up at the doors of Kaer Morhen, but very few made it outside. I hadn't seen you in five days, but I could hear your screaming deep within the keep every other night. You had just survived your Trials. Although you told me to be brave now that it was my turn, I couldn't help it. I was scared the first time I saw your new eyes. No, not scared. I missed the green in them, but I could feel the amber in them was cold. You knew what you looked like, and in an effort you took my hand in yours and squeezed hard. Not only your eyes seemed cold.

Vesemir pulled us apart and bid me gently to close the door behind us. This was our first last time.

* * *

The second time you don't even remember me. We meet when you are much older. No, not that old. But your hair is now snow white! What happened to your skin? It looks almost like mine used to be. How many years has it been? I am again at Kaer Morhen, but this time I'm determined to stay at your side, no matter what. You take me under your wing "since I need guidance", even though I don't see that much of an age difference between us.

It's amazing how little you've changed in character. In spite of your newly acquired sarcasm, your laughter still sounds like the music of a thousand silver bells. This time we don't go out into the fields anymore, because you're hard at training to be a mighty witcher, and so am I. You do have some free time, and it's these moments we take the most advantage of. You've taught me to play the lute! Sure, the instrument yowls and pinches since no one knows how to properly tune it. Gracefully, you still play it with as much skill as you put your swords to sing.

We go hunting one evening, and we catch a glimpse of something so rare but beautiful. It was a white wolf with golden eyes! Vesemir didn't believe us, he told us wolves of that kind roamed so far south in hidden mountains of Rivia, that between the ongoing wars and the lack of game over there they were surely extinct. Nevertheless, I started calling you the White Wolf. You laugh and I feel refreshed that you like my pet name for you. I overhear Vesemir and the others lamenting that nickname, since you're soon to leave Kaer Morhen and you should have no personal attachments.

I made a mistake soon after you left. I went hunting, but without the other witchers and found myself pursuing our white wolf. I ended up stumbling down a ravine, but it didn't end there. Our wolf heard the commotion and sniffed until it caught me limping. It hurt Geralt. It was as if you were the one biting through my flesh. But I am also thankful. I know you won't find me or mourn me now that you've set on the Path.

* * *

The third time we are both old. By my standards until now, anyway. You carry yourself with enormous confidence, one I've never seen anywhere else. Yet you also carry a burden on your back, and I can't help but ask if you'd like a song to relieve your sorrows. Your golden eyes shine briefly, as if you've thought about something and it suddenly made you very sad.

I offer you a drink, you nod. We drink Est Est and you're surpringly charming. I sit beside you, playing my lute while we keep drinking and talking. Some of the local villagers are upset that I keep chatting with you, but aren't they upset at anything I do or say as of late? I ask, partly drunk, but mainly teasing: "Have you ever been in love, witcher?"

The next thing I know, we're tearing at our clothes with a hunger that could destroy us. Oh, we not only fuck. You fill my mouth with your cum, kiss and bite so hard my lips bleed, press my knees against your chest as you slide into me. Our moans must've been heard all through Redania. But my moans were more of a prayer. Great Melitele, do not part me from him anymore!

You spend a few days in the village, take a contract which you ultimately fail. Well, not exactly. You see, I was unaware of what I had become. "He bedded and conspired with that devil's spawn of a witcher!" was the last thing I heard. But my spirit lingered long enough to hear my story. The local bard didn't go on drunken rampages every month or so. He transformed into a gigantic wolf-man. Hideous, malodorous, unnatural. And the witcher Geralt of Rivia had refused to kill me. I was dead and you were pelted out of town under a rain made out of stones.

* * *

This life I'm not even human, but you love me very much. I can tell I'm special to you, because you keep patting my head and my mane. I'm afraid every time you come back bloodied, poisoned or with gashes like the one on your face. I'm afraid – no – terrified it will be our last chance together. But I press onto a gallop and ride until dawn or my legs fail me, just to glimpse civilization again before you pass out. I will never get used to seeing you half dead.

We've been together for almost five years this time, and I had to develop a sense of bravery. I needed to make my best of the time we had together, but I also wanted to protect you. This is why I've started following you deep into marshes and ancient woods. I never had a glimpse at leshens, bruxae and all sorts of monster up close. The first time I kick a drowner with my hind legs you ask for a special bucket of oats and feed me slowly. "Good, Roach! Very good". My heart sings! I neigh and bump my head against yours, and you kiss my forehead.

I witnessed Blaviken with you, and although mostly your pride was hurt, you were not the same again. You started to let your guard down and fighting without potions. You are exceptionally resilient, even for a witcher. But it doesn't take away that you are trying to leave this life. Why do you want to die?

The final stroke on this story comes when you take a contract for a griffin. Its claws dug deep in my belly, but I struggled and fought to see you one last time. It didn't take you long. With a swift stroke you beheaded the beast and ran to my side. You were dissipating quickly from my view, but you rested my heavy head on your lap and managed to say goodbye this time. I love you too, Geralt.

* * *

I am a child again. Not older than when we first met so many years ago. And although mama called you "a monster among men, filthy Butcher!" I didn't care. Did monsters carry swords on their backs like knights did? I wanted so badly to be like you, but my talents lied in recounting tall tales, disturbing rivers with big splashes, eating and plucking instruments until a decent sound came out.

What does it mean that witchers are infertile? You take me along with you as a Child of Promise. Mama cried so much! I stop crying myself after a few hours when you promise to show me a magic trick. You make a few funny poses with your hands and fingers, and you send a rock skipping through the lake we were sitting next to. I soon stop caring about my past and you turn every day into an incredible adventure.

We arrive somewhere near Novigrad. An ekimmara has been haunting the nearby orchard. I insist on going with you, but you insist in turn: the innkeeper has honey cakes and you'll be back shortly. I am fed, tucked into bed by a stranger, and the woman is kind enough to open the window for me. Summer heat was getting to me. And so did the ekimmara. You never did understand that humans, particularly adult humans, are spectacularly cruel and selfish. The innkeeper had set out the contract for the beast, but what she didn't tell you was that it haunted her place as much as the orchard. All she wanted was her customers to come back, and your sword met her neck with equal fury as the vampire's throat.

* * *

This is my sixth life Geralt. And when I see you again, I'm brimming with euphoria. It's the longest time since last we saw each other. You're brooding and bitter, and I don't understand why. Naturally, I approach you. Simultaneously making a fool of myself by tucking bread in my pants, and remembering all our past hellos, I sit and make small talk. Of course I'm playing jests like there was no tomorrow! I've lived with enough tragedy in my past lives to be sad anymore.

This time you are reluctant to have company besides your horse, but I no longer give a damn about your opinions or sour face. I will shine on you, brightly and warmly, in the hopes we can be together once more. You punch my gut. But I take it with grace. I know what you've been through with me, but do you know as well?

We live many adventures together. We fight with the elves at the edge of the world, feast with queens and time passes by so quickly. You fall in love with – her –. Of course I'm heartbroken. I still follow you into the jaws of death once more. And you know what? I will follow you a thousand lives more.

You curse and yell at me this last time. You're bound to her, I understand. But what is a last wish compared to five lifetimes with you?

We meet a half a decade after Villentretenmerth. I haven't died in spite of my mouth doing it's best efforts. You laugh at the joke and every memory we've ever shared streams back into my head. I haven't forgiven you yet, but you stretch an arm towards me, and take my hand to your mouth, slowly kissing every fingertip.

Wine is plentiful, but talk is not. The conversation has long pauses, until you break in with the truth and an apology. The one I wanted to hear on that mountain top.

"Jaskier, you know I'm bound to her. But the only one who knew me was you."

Silence. Another cup drained.

"Jaskier, do you understand? I'm pleading at your shrine, right now, to listen to me".

And I break. I saw your face, remorseful like when we were children together at Kaer Morhen, you telling me to be brave. It's my turn to be brave again. Geralt, it's undeniable: you pull me through time. My lips meet your with such force, that even your embrace doesn't hold us and we fall to the floor. The scene looks hilarious, but we laugh knowingly and I pull you to my room. Sweet Melitele, you will not part me from him again!


End file.
